


Lost

by Squaresas



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, a whole lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squaresas/pseuds/Squaresas
Summary: The night before Martinaise.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Jean Vicquemare
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	Lost

Moonlight was casting silver light in the precinct’s windows, making Jean Vicquemare feel like he was standing in a rectangle spotlight by the window. Right by him, in the dark, figure was slouching in a chair, shuddering with sobbing noises from time to time.

There was nothing more in this very moment that he would want more than helping his partner to get out of this pit of despair he fell into. To see the real smile for once, not the disturbing-looking grin, that seemed to cement itself into the weary face. But he was starting to lose hope. Anyone would after six years of this.

That nagging thought that he lost the chance to drag Harry out of crooked way of a suicidal drug-addict kept hanging over his head. Because he remembers the day when it started. How after weeks of pathetic crying and desperate attempts to take as many cases as possible as a distraction from the fact that ‘love of his life’ left him, after a promise to have a serious chat, said in tired, small voice, the man suddenly vanished one evening, somehow slipping past Jean who was waiting for his partner by the entrance of 41’s precinct. They never got to have that one important talk. Jean never got a courage to reveal what he actually felt for his friend. Because in the morning Harry stumbled into the precinct, late, disheveled, face even more pale and somehow red at the same time than usual, twitching and squinting at the dim lights in their office. Everyone knew what that meant, but for some reason kept silent. Maybe hoping that it was a one time episode. Maybe out of sympathy for obvious pain that detective was going through.

But frighteningly fast it became apparent that the man was slipping, not even really hiding his new affiliations with local drug vendors, wreaking havoc in bars and disco clubs and developing reputation of ‘that one cop’. Bright, ridiculous looking clothes found its way into their workplace, with Harry not thinking too much about the way that might represent their precinct, slapping holo-rectangles onto anything that would make him look like a ‘superstar’.

It’s not that Jean was ignoring it, of course he rushed to the unwanted rescue of his best friend. It was a long and miserable time of throwing drugs and alcohol in any trash container that was as far away from his home as possible, dragging Harry in his place and trying to sober him up, to talk or shout some sense into him. All he was getting as reaction was an empty stare and insane grin, the man shaking his head at every encouragement to piece himself back together. Morning, stumbling into the station, busying his mind with tons of cases. Night, partying with shady crowds and taking everything they give to you in small packets, singing songs how this will help to feel happier, even if for a short while. Rinse, rise, repeat.

So Jean backed away. Not fully, but he wasn’t watching over every move that his partner was making anymore, preferring not to interfere with how the man decided to live his life. The only one who would be able to stop this crazy dance with his health, both physical and mental, was Harry himself. Except it seemed like it was never going to end. A lot of people in 41st couldn’t deal with it. A lot of additional stress.

Oh, it hurts a lot to see him like this, of course. Enough to make Jean drink way more than needed, to start doubting himself, rotting inside with each passing day, bit by bit. Sometimes, looking out of a window of his apartments in impotent rage, he was hoping that somewhere out there Harry is suffering twice as him for making Jean go through this carousel of depressing cycle. And then that moment passes, and he feels like shit for even daring to have thoughts like these.

He frowned, looking back to the figure that stopped crying, shuffling with something. Cheap lighter flickered, illuminating tired, red eyes and equally red bloated nose. Jean was still wondering to this day which he liked more – the younger, neatly dressed and trimmed Harrier, or long hair, mutton chops on a face that looks ten years older that it really is, fashioned by one of the least crazy looking disco blazers in man’s wardrobe. Not like he had any choice in the matter, though.

Jean’s gaze followed bright orange dot, listening to the sound of husky exhale. He was annoyed enough to say that they weren’t supposed to smoke in here. So he did.

\- Put this shit out, we don’t have ventilation for you needs here.

\- Fuck off, Vic.

Harry flinched when his hand was suddenly grabbed. Watching with blank expression, edges of mouth slightly twitching, how Vicquemare grimaced from cigarette burning in clenched fist. He stepped back, releasing it and letting fall to the floor, spewing a couple of sparks before it went out.

\- You just destroyed the last of my cigarette soldiers! – in spontaneous dramatic fit, Harry jumped off the seat with surprising energy that was probably possible to explain by man’s stash of speed, grabbing his greasy hair and falling on the knees in the moonlight, - oh, the humanity!

\- You don’t deserve any cigarettes right now, - doing his best to ignore his partner’s eccentric speech, that seemed to get only worse with years, Jean threw a folder at him, that was lying abandoned on the table before.

\- What is this? – mumbled Harry, quickly flipping it open and letting his eyes run over preliminary info in white light, switching from crazy to detective mode in a second.

\- New case. Some idiots in Martinaise decided that it would be a great fucking idea to hang a hired mercenary in their backyard. And he’s been dangling there for some time now, so we’re already late, - Jean tapped the desk, wishing to get some smokes now that the air around him was poisoned.

\- I’m taking it, - abruptly slamming the folder shut, Harry stood up, turning to walk away and almost slipped on dumb high-heeled shoes when Jean grabbed his shoulder.

\- Even a psycho like you should realize how dangerous this shit can be, right? - gritting his teeth, detective was searching for something in friend’s eyes. Anything but this dead stare, - it’s a fucking suicide mission to go solo over there.

\- Sounds like my kind of mission.

Jean really wanted to never hear anything like this from Harry. Or stumble into his place and find out that the man tried to make his not so secret wish come true. It already happened too many times for detective’s liking.

\- Shut up, - he stepped back, controlling the urge to lash out, - me and Minot are coming with you. Or you want me to remind about the last time when you were left to work alone and crippled the suspect for life? You think I will just let you walk out there in your state, you lunatic?

\- I solved the case though, right? – shrugging, he made another attempt to leave, stumbling when his ridiculous giant collar was grabbed, an angry, exhausted face being mere inches from his own. Void expanded a bit more inside Harrier when he saw barely noticeable tears in dark eyes of his partner.

\- Why are you so fucking ungrateful?! – trembling voice filled the office, echo hitting both of them back, - I did nothing but support you all these years and never got even a bit of gratitude, you pathetic junkie fuck!

Words reverberating through his mind, Jean exhaled, already feeling regret sinking in. Dead silence hanged between two men. Torn between choices to apologize or stand his ground, he looked away, when hoarse, deflated voice answered:

\- Why do you bother supporting me?

He blinked, not sure if he’s being made fun of.

\- What?

\- I am pretty pathetic, - the hated grin back, Harry took hands on his collar in his own, causing Jean to still for a moment, and slowly lowered them down, - and I… don’t think I deserve any kind of respect, or help, so… why? For all my detective skills, - he let out a wheezing laugh, wincing and restraining his hand from grabbing the chest, - I just can’t figure this one out.

Something between guilt and anger mixed up in Jean, so caustic, that if it had physical form he’d be throwing up from it right now.

\- What… what the fuck do you even mean, why? Is it so hard to believe that your friends worry for you?

\- I don’t believe in anything anymore, - abruptly, Harry stepped back, his gaze going dark, - I’ll come by in the morning to pick up the case file. See you.

Rushing forward, Jean closed the gap between them, wrapping his hand around other man, as if afraid that he’ll run off, grabbing his face with the other and sloppily kissed him.

Harry smelled like a lot of things. Sweat, alcohol, sick sweet scent of something most likely illegal. His beard, even dirty, felt nice under rough fingers. This is what you wanted for a long time. But…

Shaking off overwhelming pleasure, Jean finally noticed that his partner stood completely still, not reciprocating. Letting go, he opened his eyes to see the look of utter horror staring back at him. A sudden blow to the chest threw him back at the desk, the man barely managing to grab it to not fall over.

\- Are you fucking kidding me?!

Harry breathed heavily, knuckles white, rage almost palpable in the air. Stepping back, he clutched his head, tugging at the long hair so heavily, as if trying to tear them out.

So this was a mistake after all. One big, delayed, horrible fucking mistake. Jean had to deduce that someone so macho wouldn’t be into men, deducing is his goddamn job, but..

\- I still love her, and you do… this?! – screaming at the top of his lungs, voice almost giving out, the man started to back away to the door.

\- Harry, wait! - a coughing fit made Jean stop, pain burning through the chest.

\- I only exist for her! I can get her back! I…

Screaming trailed into unintelligible crying, that quickly faded away, accompanied by stomping.

Exhaling, Jean looked at the open door, gaping into the blackness of corridor.

* * *

Judith was standing by him, clearly uncomfortable at the whole ordeal, squinting at the morning sun. They had to drive to Martinaise after all, hearing Harry’s barely comprehensible blabbering about him not remembering anything and losing every material thing that proved his position as a police officer was the last straw that kept his worry from overflowing out of closed casket labeled ‘never spend this on your failure of a partner’. That, and anger. A lot of it. He expected anything, but not dumb lies about lost memory. If Harry thinks that this excuse will work in any way then he’s in for an unpleasant surprise.

He was also a bit interested in another police officer, who sported bright orange bomber and quietly sat by the bar stand, glancing in direction of stairs from time to time. Must be assigned partner from 57th. What an unfortunate fate to be forced to work with someone as Harrier. Most likely this guy already hates his guts.

Shuffling noises interrupted quiet ambient of music and clanking glasses. Jean’s eyes darted to see familiar disco getup on a man who seemed like he had no sleep in years, long hair dirty and disheveled. Most likely still hangover, and probably ingested more stuff while he was here. He seemed to be looking for someone in the hall with almost panicked stare. Ready to stand up and say everything he thinks about Harrier to his face, Jean froze when ‘assigned partner’ walked up to the man, smiling.

That wasn’t the shocking part though.

Harry smiling back was.

Not a grin. A genuine, warm smile.

Jean haven’t seen it in forever. A whirlwind of emotions rised inside of him, a lot of them betraying man’s stance on the fact that he doesn’t care about his partner anymore.

It was hard to try and calm them down when both policemen approached them.

It was even harder not to scream his soul out when Harry didn’t recognize him.

Not even after long talk about their precinct and ‘hypothetical’ relationships as partners. Son of a bitch wasn’t lying. The whole gag with blond wig and sunglasses didn’t seem as fun to him anymore.

Heavy weight settled in Jean’s chest, as he watched sincere tired eyes staring back at him. An image of same eyes, furious and filled with tears flashed in his mind. In the end, he fucked up. Too angry at everything, too selfish, he wasn’t there for his friend when it was most needed, not first time nor the second.

There was no Harrier Du Bois he knew and loved anymore. The man was long dead, leaving behind a ghost that had his appearance, acted like him, but was hollow inside, already filled with so many new experiences in last two days, none of them being years they spent together, forever lost to the pale.

Jean watched as two men left the motel, having some friendly conversation, finally dropping head on his hands, doing his best not to wail, wrecked with jealousy and regret.

**Author's Note:**

> Ey thanks for reading. I had this written ages ago but didn't consider uploading something so self-indulgent here until i saw how little fics this great pairing has. Not sure if i helped, but here you go? Some stuff might be not full canon, info from the game is blurring in my head a bit. Send your complaints to my house so i can read them, curl into a ball and die.


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